The Big Brake - Part 1: I didn't give birth to my brain
How the motherhood penalty puts the brakes on a woman's career, becoming a major contributor to the gender pay gap.
In the lead-up to International Women’s Day this year, I almost choked on my muesli as I read an article that popped up on my news feed. I’ve never been so delighted to read bad news because, finally, there it was: evidence that I hadn’t been alone.
The article covered a press release issued by UK charity Pregnant Then Screwed, outlining the results of their 2025 State of the Nation report. The report, based on a national research project, showed that 12.3% of women are sacked, dismissed or made redundant whilst pregnant, on maternity leave or within a year of returning from maternity leave.
This could mean as many as 74,000 women a year in the UK alone being forced to leave their job - just because they had a baby.
On top of this, half of pregnant women, those on maternity leave, and those returning from maternity leave say they had a negative experience at work, with a third (35.9%) having been sidelined or demoted during this time.
This happened to me - not once, but twice.
During my first pregnancy, I changed employers whilst pregnant, choosing to give up paid maternity leave for the rare promise of an arrangement that could continue my career after having a baby: a part-time senior management role. On my return from maternity leave, however, I was sidelined instead into a vague project role and told that a part-time leadership position was no longer on the table. I went from years of having senior financial and people leadership responsibility to a budget of zero, with no direct reports.
When I was pregnant with my second baby, I was determined not to see history repeated. I had clawed my way back from that experience, putting myself through business school to earn my MBA and land a General Manager role. I was managing a team of 250 employees and an eight-figure budget. I brought in someone I knew to cover my maternity leave, with the agreement of a job share when I came back.
When my baby was only nine weeks old, I got the call I dreaded: my position was being made redundant.
Whilst juggling the demands of a newborn, I had to attend interviews in the office for the role that had been identified as a suitable alternative. I urged my maternity leave cover to stick to our plan - if we were united on the same job share agreement for the new position, we could both be winners.
She told me after the interview that she had said she could go part time…or full time. I knew at that moment that my fate had been sealed with those three words.
They gave the new position to her, and I was verbally offered a vague future role that didn’t yet exist, with no direct reports; a position that ticked the right HR boxes but in reality was a leadership demotion (déjà vu, anyone?).
When I tell people about my experience, most people react with, “Is that even legal?”. In many situations, the circumstances do fall on the right side of the law. But is this really the best we can do? What about the ethics of dropping a grenade like this during a new mother’s most vulnerable time?
Some women’s experiences are worse: not only unethical, but also blatantly discriminatory, however the issue never sees any daylight as just 2% of women who experience discrimination raise a tribunal claim.
Why is this?
BECAUSE THEY’RE LOOKING AFTER A BABY.
AND RECOVERING FROM HAVING GIVEN BIRTH.
AND SURVIVING ON AN HOUR’S SLEEP.
(Yes, I am using shouty caps. And I am a shouty caps hater).
We are kidding ourselves if we think we’re going to see any meaningful shift in the gender pay gap this millenium without addressing the motherhood penalty.
We scratch our heads as to why a woman in her fifties earns 13 to 22% less than the average man, ignoring the elephant in the room: how we treated that same woman two decades earlier, when she had her babies.
No wonder the birth rate is dropping: I bet Gen Z look at my generation, millennial women, trying to dodge these career landmines and think, “No thanks, I’ll pass.”
Yes, sometimes positions are being made redundant anyway, with unfortunate timing for a woman who happens to be pregnant or in the postnatal phase when that happens. The decision may have nothing to do with the woman involved and everything to do with the direction of the business, the state of the company’s balance sheet, or external events.
But 74,000 times a year in the UK alone? I think not.
The juggle can be complex enough as it is. Many new mothers will choose to go back part-time for a while after having a baby, or want a role with less pressure while adjusting to the life transition of parenthood.
But often these choices are temporary, so just as we wouldn’t give every employee the same performance rating or assume they all have the same development goals, we shouldn’t make sweeping and lasting assumptions about working mothers’ intentions. In that very instant we exclude the woman from the conversation about her own career, and render her invisible.
Before assuming she won’t want a leadership role after maternity leave, ask her. Before thinking she’ll want a full twelve months off, ask her. Before deciding that she’d rather be left alone on maternity leave than included in a meeting about workplace changes, ask her.
Trying to maintain career momentum during years heavy with subconscious bias can already feel like wading through treacle, so let’s not add another layer to weigh down a woman who wants to return, is excited to get going, and just wants to be part of the conversation about decisions that impact her life in a real way.
And consider this - having worked alongside and managed working mothers for several years, I find myself hard-pressed to find a cohort of employees more dedicated, productive and engaged.
They have done another (unpaid) job before they even arrive at work.
They could plan and execute a royal wedding with the organisational skills gained through parenting (just look at the packing list before a family holiday).
And they could negotiate a hostage situation with the empathy and communication skills needed to persuade a toddler to keep their socks on when it’s two degrees outside.
My youngest daughter, the baby who was nine weeks old when I got that phone call, is a fully walking, talking little person these days. At this stage, it would certainly be easier to just continue to move forward and not think of this for a second longer - it’s in my past, and I’ve finished having my babies so it won’t happen to me again.
But if, by adding to this conversation, I can get just one person to pause and reconsider a decision that may inadvertently impact a vulnerable new mother in a negative way, then I owe it to that woman to speak for her. Until there is an awareness of the multi-layered effects of making a woman feel invisible after she has a baby, nothing will change.
After all, women give birth to babies - not their brains.
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This is great.
It is sexism by stealth. Nothing explicit because there are laws against that….
So many women feel the sharp end of unfair actions against them when they take time out for the important job of creating the next generation!
It's so important to talk about. As a freelancer it's been incredibly difficult to navigate the contracts I used to get. I wouldn't get them because, as usual, it was urgent and I couldn't work on the days my son wasn't in nursery. The last good contract, that would have actually covered those nursery fees, disappeared into silence after I said I would not be available for clients to contact me out of standard hours, those particular hours when it's a toddlers bedtime routine. It was a 2 month contract and I was left with such worries trying to find new clients that I could now work with. Let's hope for change for our future generations as after all one income no longer covers household costs.